


A Cynic and an Ailurophile

by CapitanAlpaca



Category: South Park
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Classic Case of New Kid in Town Syndrome, Craig Tucker is an asshole, Cynicism, Multi, Reader Insert, Snow, You have a cat, guinea pig, manbearpig mentions, your best friend is ten
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-12-27
Packaged: 2018-04-09 18:58:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4360598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CapitanAlpaca/pseuds/CapitanAlpaca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You remember the first time you met him—bruised and battered, and oh<br/><br/>you wished you had been the one to kick his ass.<br/><br/>You loved your beautiful cat more than you loved breathing air, but you wished he would stop trying to murder your new neighbor's guinea pig!<br/><br/>Then again, perhaps your neighbor had it coming.<br/><br/>||craig tucker x reader||</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. an ailurophile's new town

**Author's Note:**

> Imported from lunaescence 
> 
> Please, please enjoy~

When your parents had told you that you would have to be moving to some godforsaken town in the mountains of cold Colorado, you weren't exactly jumping at the idea. Your dad and mom were offered a chance to work at the hospital, Hell's Pass—apparently it was in worse shape than most medical facilities and your parents were going to "help out". That meant you were stuck there for the rest of your good, young life in a bone chilling town with nothing to do but angst about leaving all your old life behind. 

Your older brother seemed to be taking this new idea quite well as he only had his thoughts on "ravishing the town's girl population"; yeah, because your brother was SUCH a ladies' man. 

Despite _his_ chipper attitude, the goodbye party your best friends had thrown you couldn't have been more somber. It was full of tears, promises to keep in touch and the reality of an inevitable distance that would come between you and them. They would eventually graduate high school, like you, and you'd all go separate ways. It was just so unfair, but you didn't have much say in the decision. 

~

The morning you and your family had packed up the moving truck and piled into your car, giving your childhood home one last look was a cool, early winter one. You had said goodbye to the nick marks along the door frame measuring your growth and the creaky staircase that you and your brother had one slid down in a laundry basket. You said goodbye to your old bedroom and the memories stored within it. Now, you'd be going to some terrible—you only assumed for it was a small town— place where everyone hated dancing like in Footloose. (If that was the case, then you could be caught in some warehouse, angrily dancing your feelings out.)

Your cat, James—properly named after one of the best Enterprise captains— was nestled in your lap as you watched your beloved hometown fade away, the very warmth of the town leaving you as your family ventured further towards the Rocky Mountains. 

Your head leaned against the window as you fell in and out of a few naps before waking up just in time to catch sight of the "Welcome to Flagstaff City". Right, the trip was taking you through Arizona and eventually through Four Corners and then up into your new "home". Non-stop the trip would take around half a day and the type of people your parents were told you that you would be doing exactly that. Thankfully, your older brother was a licensed driver unlike how you were only carrying your measly permit. Though, you assumed it didn't mean anything now that you were living in a new state. 

Yeah, life wasn't exactly looking up for you. 

"Quit looking like an angsty little girl, [Name]," you turned in the direction of your brother whom was giving you a teasing smirk. You rolled your eyes at him and continued to look out the window. "We're stopping soon, so stretch your legs," he added. Ever the big brother, through the pound of douche he sometimes was. "Seriously, you look that girl from Twilight..."

_Ah, he always delivered._

~

It seemed like the windows were fogging up because of all the heat trapped in the car and the significantly colder air outside, so your brother cracked the window. You shivered at the nips of chilly air hitting your exposed skin. 

Coming from the Southern part of Nevada in good ol' Las Vegas, where you got highs of 110 in July and August was not doing anything for you now. There was a lingering thought in the front of your pretty, little head that told you everyone here would be fucking pale, constantly bundled up and bored out of their right minds. From what you had heard from your lovely parents, the town was one of those places that everyone knew everyone and everything was close to everything. Excellent, just _perfect_

It had been a long drive so far and even James was getting ansty; the gray cat never bothered to do much but sleep and yet he was feeling eager to get out. You'd been falling in and out of consciousness during the drive and eventually at around 8 o'clock at night, your new town lay before you. The sign of "South Park" bored into your soul. A feeling deep inside of your gut made you crunch together in disgust, all you wanted was to go back home. You did't want to like anyone here, you didn't want to get used to the frigid air and you definitely didn't want to get stuck in this small town groove. (You weren't well known for your optimism, either.)

The movers were quick to get all the bigger furniture into the house and even your beds. The rest of the boxes weren't too bad either, and before midnight, you had finished bringing in everything. Tipping the movers heavily, your dad told you and your brother to go upstairs and rest. Dinner was earlier and on the road before getting to South Park. You sat on your bare mattress with a couple of your pillows and a few dozen blankets. The cold air was everywhere and you couldn't help but toss and turn. With a final thought, your hands came up to your face, the whole of your body basically frozen. 

"I hate it here," you muttered under your breath. It was natural for a girl your age to be completely bitter about having to transfer your life elsewhere. You sat staring at the ceiling, taking in the strange sounds of your new house and outside. Outside. Your mom was most likely going to send you out so she could unpack and you could get a feel for the town. Ha. As if! The last thing you wanted was to get comfy in this place; you wanted to ditch it as soon as possible!

You felt the familiar fuzz of your cat snuggling on top of your feet. _At least, something in this fucking icebox of a town is warm_ , you thought cynically. To think you would have to finish up the remainder of your last year of high school in this place was utterly ridiculous. Thankfully, it was only winter break and you would have a buffer time to adjust before going into the fray of a high school environment. 

You sighed once more before falling asleep to your cat' slow purr. The only sound that you found familiar. 

~

"You need to get a feel for this place, [Name] [Last Name], you might come to realize you actually like it here!" Now you knew where your brother had gotten his positivity. He was already out and about looking at his new town. You, on the other hand, wanted to lock yourself in your room and be surrounded by your belongings. Mom wasn't having it though, so you were dragged downstairs and thrown a jacket, some gloves and a beanie, just in case you got cold. 

"But, Mom—"

"[Name]! I'm not going to tell you again, go explore!" She snapped and you tossed on the winter gear, unhappy with this forced quest. You grabbed your phone from upstairs and threw on some shoes before turning to protest again—

"Go!" 

And with that you were outside, the frozen air biting your sun-kissed cheeks. The jackets you had were light but the gloves and beanie proved to be useful. Your jeans weren't deterring any of the freezing air from getting to your very bones, effectively causing you to shake within a few minutes of standing outside. There wasn't a fear of leaving your porch, just hesitant feelings. All last night and this morning you had pretty much vowed to hate this stupid town and exploring was against that oath. Instead, what you called this was a "scouting trip"— to see if anything was worth your while. 

You had come across all the housing developments and eventually, your feet dragged you into town. Cars buzzed by, but most everyone was walking around. You shoved your black gloved hands into your jacket pockets and strolled around, eyeing all the local stores. The people seemed normal enough but you still couldn't be sure enough to tell. A few moments later and you had stumbled across some coffeehouse, it wasn't anywhere near the Main Street and you assumed it must be a locally run place of business since you'd never heard of Tweek Bros before. 

You decided to go inside and grab a cup since it was still freezing outside, not that that was about to change anytime soon. Your mom had thrown a 20 dollar bill at you as you left so you were covered. It was practically destitute when you had walked inside, and you didn't see anyone behind the counter. A glance behind your shoulder confirmed that the store was open so you removed your gloves and came up to the front, hoping to get the attention of the owners. "Um, hello? Is anyone here?" 

You frowned at the lack of customer service so you gave them another thirty seconds before you rolled your eyes, heaved a sigh and turned on your heels to leave. _Figures_ , you scoffed mentally before preparing for the chilly weather once more, remembering a Harbucks you passed. 

"W-wait! I-I'm sorry! D-don't leave y-yet!" You were startled by the sound of a nervous, stuttering boy. Turning around to find a messy blonde haired and untidy employee around your age, slightly frantic about your arrival. "Do y-you want someth-thing?"

Rolling your eyes, you eyed the menu of choices and gave him an easy enough order of hot chocolate with whipped cream. He smiled nervously and went about making your order as you took a seat near the entrance. You pulled your cell phone out and busied your mind with checking any social media. 

Some time afterwards a cup appeared in front of you at the same time the door swung open, bringing a chill down your spine as it shimmied into your jacket. You quickly went for the warm liquid and winced at its cheap taste, although you couldn't complain, it was keeping you toasty. 

The new arrival must've been some local because the blonde seemed to perk up slightly at the sight of him. A new nasally voice entered your ears, yet your eyes stayed plastered to your phone. "Hey, get me something to ice my knuckles and also a coffee, Tweek," he blandly stated as you could tell he sat down at a seat further away from you. All your eyes saw when they peered upwards was a blue and yellow chullo hat on top of another teenage boy. The blonde came back with trembling hands with the items—a bag of ice and a coffee mug. "Wh-what happened?"

"Clyde got into some trouble with the wrestling team and he pulled me into his problems. That's what happened," he seemed completely uninterested in speaking to this blonde and you thought for a moment they weren't friends. 

"So-so, you got into a-a f-fight?"

"Yes, Tweek," he sipped his mug. You wondered what he looked like for the briefest of moments as he was facing away from your seat. You had long forgotten what you were currently doing on your phone and decided to listen in on any conversation these two were having. From what you could put together this kid was dragged into a fight by some "Clyde" because "Clyde" had decided he wanted to hit on the wrestling team's girl—and yes, you were able to deduce from his words that the wrestling team was indeed, sharing this one girl. Not that you judged, you would probably sleep with the entire wrestling team if you had grown up in such a bland town with shitty hot chocolate. 

"W-well, I-I'm glad y-you're o-okay, Craig," so that was Blue and Yellow Chullo Hat's name. These two were probably going to be the most interesting part of your day and that in itself was depressing enough. Once you got back home, you were going to sit with your cat and list all the terribly boring stores you had seen. Just because there wasn't anything else to do. 

The conversation pretty much ended after "Craig" grunted as a response to his friend's relief. You lost your concern of the two and proceeded to finish up your hot chocolate and got up to pay the blonde haired employee, Tweek, you believed he was called. (That would explain the store name...)

"Here," you pulled out the money and waited patiently to receive your change. Scratching the back of your neck, your [e/c] eyes wondered around the coffeeshop and over to the only other patron currently getting up as well. He was still holding the ice on his hand and left the cup at the table. He came towards your position, probably to pay as well and you noticed that this "Craig" pretty much towered over you. If he wanted to, he could probably easily push you down or take advantage of you smaller stature. 

Tall boys were awfully attractive and he wasn't all that bad when you had gotten a good look at his face—he hadn't noticed your stares yet. His lip was cut and his cheek had a small bruise forming, his hand was clearly bruised and red too when he shifted the ice pack. You were probably staring for too long because your arm was currently being tapped. 

"Um, your change?" 

"Oh, yeah, thanks for the hot cocoa," you mumbled as you turned to leave, accidentally bumping shoulders with Craig. He frowned even more and you gave a small, barely audible apology. All you received was the finger and a rough shoulder bump as he brushed past you. 

"Rude..." You muttered as you shoved your hands back into your pockets. This town wasn't exactly looking up. 

Tomorrow had better be satisfactory, at least.


	2. Chapter 2

Remember when you were little and you liked to pretend you were in a Taylor Swift music video and talk to boys through your window? No? Well, you wouldn't want to admit to something like that in person anyways, not when your new neighbor was so vile. No! Not the house to your right, the girl who lived there was nice. 

Or she seemed like she was nice. You didn't really get her name nor did you want to make an effort to do such a thing as you had a bigger problem. 

Your next door neighbor to your left was much more of an issue. Yes, upon taking the trash outside you had run into an old face. You had to act as leisurely as possible when you flung the black garbage bag into the larger trash can outside while he passed. He hardly even looked in your direction so you weren't exactly sure why you wanted to thrust your chin into the air and strut away. Maybe it was your hurt feelings after his rude behavior earlier or maybe it was just this town. 

Whatever the case, you had stuck your nose in the air and turned so quickly you didn't have much time to brace yourself and your feet slipped slightly. You swore you could hear a snort of amusement from behind you but you retreated into your house. Pressing your cheek against the front living room window, you saw as he continued down the street. 

"Good rid—"

The fact that he turned into the house next door and walked right in made the words fall away from you. It would serve you right that your newly dubbed mortal nemesis would reside next door. A strong flick to the back of your head made you rip your attention away from that hell house. 

"Ow!"

"What're you gawking at?" It was your annoying older brother, who'd plopped onto the couch with a big smirk on his face. You crossed your arms before shutting the curtains closed. 

"Just looking at the neighbors."

He tilted his head, "Do I sense some hostility in that voice of yours, dear baby sister?" 

"Yes, _dear big brother_ you are hearing correctly."

He sat up and set his feet on the table, hands folded in his lap. He had the same eye color as you and yet somehow he had gotten the gene of looking constantly doe-eyed. He attracted people to him even when he wasn't trying but you didn't mind. He attracted very good looking friends and as his little sister, you thanked your lucky stars. "Now, sit down, talk to big brother, tell me all your troubles," he patted the couch cousin besides him. You trudged over and sat down with a scowl plastered across your features. 

"Well, if you haven't already noticed I'm not too excited to be here."

"No! It wouldn't even have occurred to me! You've only smiled while you here!" A slap to his arm was enough to wipe the sarcastic grin off his face. 

"Anyways, Mom made me go outside—"

"Gosh, your day already sounds so hard, [Name], are you sure you want to continue. This is getting me choked up."

"If you continue to interrupt me, I'll tell Mom about that time you smoked weed in the garage with all your friends."

He rolled his eyes, "Like she's _never_ smoked weed?"

You didn't say anything but gave him that expression shared between siblings that translated into: _Shut the fuck up, please and thank you._ "So I went into town and I ran into this dude who was just flat out rude. Granted he did look like he got his ass kicked earlier by the wrestling team, he didn't have to give me such bad attitude. I don't know, it just set me into an even worse mood."

"So you're all angry because he gave you attitude? Have you ever met yourself? You're like the _SassMaster2000_."

"What do you mean? I am _not_ sassy! You're just—."

He hit your knee with a slap, "See! SassMaster! All your unnecessary negativity and sass really bum me out. You really need to chill out."

"No! I can't because this asshole is our next door neighbor!"

"[Name] [Last Name], I hope you intend to brush your teeth with that foul mouth of your's!" A stray disembodied voice yelled from the kitchen area; it was your Mom. 

Your older brother snickered and you frowned at him. "You got in trouble, L-O-L." He had a nasty habit of spelling out text abbreviations in real world uses. It was a partial reason he could never find a girlfriend. That and his general awkwardness and lack of charm towards the "ladies".

"Seriously, though, I can't face that guy again! I already stumbled in his presence, he's seen me weak, he'll try and destroy me."

"How do you know this?"

"He is my sworn nemesis."

"Did you make that up?"

You paused briefly, "Yes, but I can feel it deep within my bones. We aren't going to get along. I promise you that, right here and now. That guy and I will forever be cursed to live this life of hating one another because it's destiny!"

"You're really bumming me out again. Just go to bed and sleep on that idea of yours. You're just overreacting and embarrassed, [Name]. You probably think he's _soooo cute_ deep down inside your sassy soul," your oddball brother teased and you huffed in annoyance. Your [h/c] haired brother got up and ruffled your mass of hair before leaving to go upstairs. 

Perhaps he was right. 

~

Your older brother could not have been more wrong, actually. 

When you woke up the next morning, it was Monday morning. Your mom and dad were already at the hospital working and your older brother was still snoring in his room. He wasn't really taking this whole _year-off-of-college-to-pursue-life_ as seriously as he told your parents. You shrugged anyways at the thought of his wasted potential. 

As much as your body yearned to stay snuggled within the warm confines of your comforter, you knew something was amidst. Something was missing. 

James was missing. 

Your beloved cat. 

He usually slept soundly on your bed or suffocated you in the morning for food, but he wasn't there. It was enough to make you worry. It really shouldn't have been a big deal because cats are known to be highly independent creatures. Chalking it up to your undying attachment to the furry little asshole, you went about in your thick pajamas shaking his bag of cat treats. His lack of response made your mind fill up with all kinds of outlandish possibilities. What if he'd ran away back home? What if he got run over? What if he was frozen stiff outside? ~~What if that rude, local boy had stolen him as a declaration of war?~~

You shook your head and tried to rid yourself of such silly ideas. Frankly, you couldn't quite understand why you decided to pin all of your anger upon Blue-and-Yellow-Chullo-Hat-Guy or Craig. He must've really just had a bad day, having gotten into a fight to save his friend's ass and you were staring for a while. He went out of his way to help his friend so he couldn't have been that bad. 

It had occurred to you after a solid ten minutes of frantic searching in your new house that James was not there. It only left one other option open: outdoors. The frigid cold and difficult-to-walk-in snowy weather was not enticing at all. One would probably expect a desert-born girl to be swept off her feet at the sight of new fallen snow, but you only saw misery. You didn't have any real snow-proof clothing so you were a thousand percent screwed. Motivation to retrieving James was the only thing pushing your boots on. You threw on your heaviest sweatshirt and braced for outside. You still held the cat treat bag in your hand in hopes it would attract him near. (That or the entirety of the cats in your new neighborhood would attack you.) 

As soon as you opened the door, you closed it. Maybe a scarf or some gloves would do you well and so you bundled yourself up further. You left a note on the kitchen counter for you brother and once more you stepped outside. It was even chillier than yesterday and it probably didn't help that you were only wearing your pajama pants. So you continued down you street calling out for your cat and you passed a few people. 

The nicer looking bunch, you asked about James' whereabouts—all were no help. You sighed and continued down one way until you reached the end and walked back to your house, head hung low. It would be a lie to say you weren't feeling like your world was crashing down. That asshole of a feline was always around and the thought of losing him right after this big move was hitting you hard. He was your slice of home, he was your second cat since the other one passed away when you were little. Stuffing your face further into the thick scarf around your neck, you tried not to be so pessimistic about the situation. He'd come back eventually, right?

Who else was supposed to feed him?! 

All this angst had distracted you from one slippery icy patch of grass and you hardly had enough time to shout out a swear as your feet went up and your torso came down. You felt the hard cement crack against the back of your skull and you briefly wondered if you were dead when you blinked open your eyes. This was how you were going to die: lonely, cold, a virgin, and miserable. Perfect.

Fortunately, you were not dead. No, you were just lying on your back, with the biggest headache of you life forming. As if it couldn't get worse enough, you felt the eyes of another on your still form. You didn't feel like moving just yet and you felt your cheeks heat up with clear embarrassment and the sheer amount of internal hemorrhaging. 

You knew you were close to your house; accidents always happened when you thought you were safest. The crunching of snow was like listening to your own funeral requiem. You continued to stare up at the sky, hoping they'd pass you by and it could all be brushed under a rug. Alas, you never had much luck.

"Yo, you alright? Are you dead?" A smaller male voice reached your ears and you were relieved to know it was not your arch nemesis. He fell into your view when he leaned over and blinked owlishly at you. "Hello?"

You blinked back and swallowed, you spoke with a harshness to your voice due to your clear frazzled nerves. "Yes, I'm fine, leave me alone, please."

He looked a lot younger than you, maybe in his elementary or middle school years and you saw how underdressed for the weather he was, being born and bred in the snow must give you superpowers to this weather. He backed off when you lifted yourself up to your feet, slowly. A pounding headache was already coming at you with all it's force as you stood straight and noticed he wasn't gone yet. 

"Are you that new family that moved in next door?" He quirked his head to the direction of your house which wasn't too far down. 

"Yep, that would be me. And you are?"

"Benjamin, or you can call me Benji or Ben. I like Ben, though, myself," he said with a little flourish and a bow. His blonde hair was coiffed to some sort of chaotic method and his brown eyes shone with some youthful mischief. "I live next door with my sister!"

"Oh, that's nice," you didn't exactly want to plan to make any friends especially not some fifth grader who looked like could blow over with one strong breeze. "Have seen a gray cat around? Has a blue collar with a bell and looks like he is angry all the time?" You tried since he seemed in the mood for conversation. He didn't seem like he'd be much help but you didn't have much choice either. 

The blonde was quiet and you almost walked away but he snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "Yeah! In Tucker's backyard this morning when I was walking my dog, Pepper!" 

"Really?! Who's Tucker? Where's his house? Show me kid, c'mon!" You shook his tiny frame and he stared at you with a strange expression. 

"Nah man, I hate that guy. He always hangs out with these douchebag kids that ruin everything all the time. My sis says I gotta stay far away from them, so you're in this on your own."

"Good to know."

"Yeah, I guess this one time one of them fed another kid his parents and um, another time he and his friends were involved in a guinea pig apocalypse. My sister remembers all this from when she went to school with them," he listed off with one breath. Then he snapped his fingers again, "Have you heard of the Manbearpig?"

"Huh? A what?"

He just stared at you and nodded, "Yeah, that's a thing," he was quiet again before pointing to your house. "Oh, but it's the house right next to yours," he finished and you cringed inwardly. Why of all godforsaken places did your cat have to go there?!

"Well...thanks, Ben," you sighed. 

"No problem, neighbor," he winked and tapped your arm playfully. "If you need any other help, I'll be around. Be careful!" You walked on forward as he went the other way. Your head was in pain and you were feeling damp and cold from the snow that had been trapped inside your jacket and melted. As much as you dreaded what you were about to do, it had to be done.

Flicking your [h/c] bangs out of your face, you knocked on the door awaiting your nemesis' face. A few scenarios ran through your head: One, you'd bust in there and save your cat and slap that guy on your way out. Two, you'd flick your hair and smoothly seduce your way into his home and take back what was yours. Or Three, you'd stand there looking like hell and have the door slam in your face as your cat was held forever prisoner. It seemed the third option would be the most accurate. 

Your time of reckoning was upon you as the down flew open and revealed a more cheerful looking brunette. Your face scrunched up in confusion and you had to lean back and make sure you were really next door. 

"You're not Token, but I mean I'm not sad you aren't," he said with a smirk and you wondered what to do next. Your cat! Yes, that was your primary objective! Retrieve James!

"Have you seen my cat?" It could've sounded cooler somehow, you thought as soon as it left your mouth. His head tilted to the side and he leaned into the doorframe. 

"A cat?"

"Yes, my cat. He's kinda fat, gray, wears a blue collar with a little bell, looks pissed off!" You tried to give a description and yet nothing seemed to get the gears running in this dude's mind. 

"Hm...gray....cat...oh! You mean the cat that we locked in Craig's bathroom?" He finally had a little lightbulb and you nearly rushed into the house. Who cared that you weren't invited inside? Your precious baby was locked in some crazy kid's bathroom! So, you felt the need to run upstairs and rescue him as soon as possible. 

"Hey! Hey! You! Girl! Don't rush up there! Hey!" The brunette gave chase and shouted at you, but his words fell on deaf ears. You were following pure instincts and burst into the farthest room on the right. Some higher power guiding you through this house and into a room filled with some other people. They all halted their conversation upon seeing you and you hardly noticed them when you went into the bathroom. In the sink was sleeping your treasured pet, James. His little furry head popped up and meowed at your intrusion. 

You took little time in scooping him up and cradling his large body in your arms. Satisfied with having found him, the reality of where you were suddenly stopped you in your tracks. All the adrenaline guiding you to your pet had faded and now you were at the mercy of several strangers in someone's bathroom. 

Fear set in.

Then, you just had to turn around and face three sets of eyes staring at you. Well, you would've seen three sets of eyes had it not been the wall of chest you bumped into. [e/c] eyes trailed up to meet piercing and unamused blue ones and suddenly you felt a feeling of distaste. Ah, your mortal nemesis. 

"What the fuck are you doing in my house?"

You scrunched your eyebrows in anger, "I was getting my cat."

He looked at your squeamish pet and rolled his eyes, "So, this is your cat? It tried to kill my guinea pig. I almost wrung it's neck, you know?"

"You did that and I would've killed you and there wouldn't be a crime because there wouldn't be a body," you defensively held your cat. 

"Oh sorry! Craig, I tried to stop her but she kinda barreled in like an animal—" the brunette heavily breathed after nearly falling down the stairs trying to chase your surprisingly elusive self, yet your raven haired enemy interrupted him. 

"Whatever, just get the hell out of my house before I throw you out myself. I don't want to waste my time talking to you anymore," he backed away so you could leave. You huffed and stomped away, the other two people in the room watched you leave as well. It was that brunette that answered the door and that blonde kid that worked at the coffee house, Twerp? Twix? Tween?

_Oh, well, something with a "T"._

You wondered if the brown haired teen was "Clyde", he did seem a little worse for wear judging by the cut on his cheek and lip. Though, now was not the time for socializing, you were leaving as dignified as you could possibly be. 

~

At dinner, you scowled as you pushed your food around on your plate. Your parents were working late, as per usual, and your older brother sat on the other side of the dining room table. He swallowed his bite of meatloaf before asking you, "What's wrong now? You found James, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but...I don't know why that kid next door is bugging me."

He shoveled some mashed potatoes into his mouth before speaking again, "Do you want me to go over there and talk to him? Kick his ass? Rough him up a bit?"

You waved your hand in the air, "No, no, I don't know. I want to kick his ass but isn't that wrong? I've been here two days and I already want to attack someone."

"You know in some cultures they call that _premeditation_ ," your brother quipped. For some reason, you really couldn't put your finger on why you had so quickly developed an undying hatred for someone whom you had just met yesterday. He truly hadn't done anything to you and James was perfectly fine, so why? Why did you want to proclaim him as your enemy?

Deciding to sleep on the thought, you went upstairs and curled into your bed. You turned on your side and stared out your window to the wall of your enemy's abode. You seriously needed to get your mind off this kid and onto more important things. 

Like what in the everlasting hell you were supposed to do about the upcoming holiday.


	3. Chapter 3

You found yourself in your backyard six days later, whisper-yelling at your cat at 2 a.m. The reason you looked completely bat-shit insane was the fact that your cat was literally on the fence between his safe haven and imprisonment. For some odd purpose, the feline critter just couldn't seem to stop going into your neighbor's backyard. Now, you had usually been able to coax him out using the shake-the-food-bowl trick, but this time he seemed set on going over. 

You were a thousand percent sure he was trying to get you on that Tucker kid's last nerve as well as get a quick snack. When Craig had complained about how your cat wanted to get his guinea pig, you knew that this wouldn't be the last time James would try. Though, you hadn't expected it to happen every single day since then! Always some crazy hour in the middle of the night, you would find yourself wondering how the hell, your cat was meowing from outside the house. 

Unless he had developed opposable thumbs during the night and opened your door and then the back door, you didn't know how he was managing his escape. To prevent any wrath of your parents, who barely got any sleep ever because of their strange work schedule, you had to get him to stop meowing. 

This involved chasing him around until he hopped over the fence into the Tucker's backyard or you caught him. Tonight was harder though. The only light outside were the street's blinking Christmas light decor and the moon. He blinked beady yellow eyes and pounced into the snowy yard of your enemy. (Yeah, you were still on that.)

"C'mon, kitty, kitty...Please come back!" You whisper yelled over the fence. You weren't tall enough to see over the wooden fence, so you just stood there in your pajamas calling into the sky above the fence. You'd already tried the bowl-shaking trick and he still refused to come back. You could hear him meowing on the other side and you hoped his loud noises weren't disturbing your parents. They already threatened to get rid of him more than once after some particularly bad work shifts in Nevada. 

"Please, c'mon, James, meow! Meow...meow," you tried speaking his language or at least mimicking the noises he frequently made. It was all very futile, yet still you hoped he wasn't going to stay over there all night and whine. "Kitty, kitty, c'mon, do you really want me to piss off that kid again?"

He suddenly stopped meowing and you wondered if he had gotten into their house, which was another mystery to you. How would he actually get into the Tucker Residence? Unless your cat _really had_ developed thumbs?!

You jumped up trying to get a view of what lay beyond the fence and you could say you were vehemently shocked. So, you continued to jump up and down in attempts to firmly grasp the situation. It couldn't possibly be right. One last jump and you were correct. You must've been dreaming. 

Craig Tucker, your self-proclaimed nemesis, was lying in the snow petting your fat cat. 

Ha! What a strange dream!

"Cat! Cat!" You called over in hopes you could get your pet away from his clutches. Perhaps he was actually strangling James and you saw all wrong! (In which, you needed to act fast.)

"Shut up, will you?" A voice answered back and you stilled, pressing your back up against the fence. "Hey, take this."

You looked up and saw your cat dangling over the fence being held by pale hands. You thought about not moving due to the current awkwardness. Again had your mortal enemy seen you at your weakest; this would not do! 

"Take your god damn cat before I throw him over."

Your hands reached over your head and grabbed the cat from his clutches. It must've been the cold because your cheeks were rosy red. ~~It most definitely was not the fact that you brushed his hands with yours in the not-so-gentle trade off.~~

"Keep your stupid cat inside."

You didn't know what compelled you to ask, yet you did anyways, "Why are you even outside at this time of night? Aren't you cold?"

"No, I'm not. Mind your business."

You should've just left at that but your feet didn't budge and your mouth kept moving, "Are you always in a bad mood or do you just find _me_ that aggravating?"

"Don't flatter yourself," An image of a smirk across his face on the other side of the fence made your blood boil. He went back to his flat tone once again, "You should learn to close your door."

"I don't know how he gets out, and anyways, my cat can do whatever he wants."

"Like ignore you for the past six days?"

You stamped your foot down, "What do you know about it? Hm?"

The wood creaked a little like someone was leaning against it and you imagined him crossed arms and wearing his stupid hat. It seemed every time you saw him in town or walking into his house, he donned it. **(Stalking was not the word, it was more coincidental.)**

"You sound like an idiot when you call for him," he said. 

"So, you've heard me for the past week and you only just now decided to help me?"

Your cat had already jumped out of your arms and onto the backyard lawn furniture. He never liked being held for too long and you were taking your sweet time to open the back door. 

"You were being especially annoying tonight."

"Fuck off," you flipped off the wooden fence with a scowl, knowing he couldn't see you. Thought he must've sensed it because a pale hand came over the top and flipped you off in return. "I'm going inside, good bye." He didn't answer but you heard the creak of wood again and the crunching of snow as you picked up your cat and went back inside. 

~

You sat on your front steps, kicking at the snow around your shoes. Beside you was a leech of a child, but someone you didn't particularly mind. He would talk your ear off any chance he got and yet most of the time you didn't mind it. He reminded you of your older brother, just much, much smaller and a lot cuter. He would go on and on about his sister's stories about the town's crazy adventures. All of which sounded like a load of crap to you, but you let him dream. 

"And that's why we don't fund stem cell research," the blonde finished his long and hard-to-believe tale of some of the strange antics in the town. You had decided that anything to get your attention off of Craig was good. As usual, your parents were hard at work saving lives; your brother was out seeing what the town had to offer for entertainment. 

"So, if your sister knows about all this stuff and so does the rest of the town, why doesn't anyone do something about it?"

He turned his head up to the sky and shrugged, "Maybe because it's exciting; we're probably all sadists and masochists."

You stuttered out a laugh derived from pure disbelief, "E-excuse me? How old are you again?"

"I'm in fifth grade. Why?"

If you could answer that with a straight face you would have but you were still wearing shock, "Um, I don't know many fifth graders who are so outspoken..."

He shrugged again, "Welcome to South Park, then."

You managed something of a laugh and picked underneath your cold fingernails as you stared at the street. If the town was so exciting why did it seem so boring?

"I guess it's mellowed out though," as if Ben could read your mind he answered the unasked question lingering. "Remember those kid I was telling you 'bout? You'll most likely run into them at school, along with our lovely neighbor."

"Our? I have to live next to him."

"True, but I don't think we'll have anymore crazy-crazy antics. They grew up and hit puberty and I guess they decided to focus on more important teenage things."

You nudged his tiny arm, "Oh yeah and what exactly is that?"

"Drugs, money, bitches. The Unholy Trinity. The Trifecta of the Thug Life, duh."

The eleven year-old rubbed his upper arm and sucked in arm sharply, hissing at the pain. You rolled your eyes. It was just a love slap. "Quit listening to rap music, go watch some damn Spongebob."

The both of you laughed and it's the kind of laugh you hadn't had in a while. The kind that makes your cheeks burn and your sides hurt because you haven't laughed like that since you left home. You didn't want to seem too sad so you decided to just fade out of your laughter, knocking the snow around at your feet. It was comforting to know that at least one person seemed to be tolerable in town—even if he was eleven years old. 

If you hadn't turned to stare at your new and unlikely friend, you would've missed how quickly his expression changed as his gaze wondered to the street. You followed his brown eyes and found a group of what appeared to be middle school girls idly giggling and chatting, passing by. He seemed to grow red in the face and his jaw flew open and closed like a fish. You'd seen that look before and a sly grin spread across your lips. 

You bumped his shoulder rapidly and giggled at his flustered expression, "Which one, huh? Which one do you like, eh?"

"Wh-what?! Shut up, I-I don't like anyone, mind your own—"

"Was it the brunette, hm? No! It was the red head, huh? I can see it in your face, yeah," you teased and he crossed his arms. You'd never experienced what it was like to be on the other end of teasing. Your older brother usually got his sick kicks when it came to that and none of your cousins really liked your humor. It was almost therapeutic and you realized how it must be imbedded in the genes of older siblings to mock the younger kids. 

"So-so what?! Okay? It's not like your life or mine gets any easier, alright?" He nodded his head to the left of you, causing your head to turn. Caught between not knowing whether to laugh, cry or feel sympathetic for Ben, you sighed. The girls entered the Tucker residence and you pat the frowning blonde on the shoulder. "It's his sister...and so, I am doomed to a life of unrequited love and loss."

"She can't be all that bad. It's just—"

"No, no, trust me. It's like he cloned himself as a chick."

"He probably is a chick that's why he's so angry," you mused. Then, you cringed because you were thinking about Craig Tucker and you were only living in South Park for a week. One week and you already had thoughts overwhelmingly consumed by a boy—not even for good reasons either! You shook you head and changed the subject, "She's looks older. What four or three years?"

"Pfft, age is but a number and love has no bounds," he waved nonchalantly. "Besides I'm hanging out with you and you're old enough to be a teen mom."

Clicking your tongue on the roof of your mouth you didn't know whether that was a compliment or an insult, "Gee, what does that make me? Your future sugar momma?"

"Hell no, girl, you're my long term investment. If it doesn't work out with Ruby—my sweet love—then I always have you," he threw an arm over you and you chuckled at his forwardness.

"Oh my, how ever will I find someone as charming and dashing as you? I must wait even if it's a lifetime," you rolled your eyes. "Why don't you talk to her then, Casanova?"

"She lives in the house o' my mortal enemy," he sighed. 

Though, you got a little too excited, "He's my mortal enemy, too! Fuck, kid, I think you and I _might_ be soulmates." 

"Yeah, 'cause we're both tormented by that stupid family." He paused before asking, "Why don't you like Craig again?"

Well, if anyone could ask a million dollar question, of course it'd be the fucking fifth grader. "I don't know, kid, I just don't like him, but I'm working on it."

"Fair enough."


	4. Chapter 4

"[Name], your brother tells me that you've been a hermit this past week," your breakfast was going so well until your mother had to use _that_ voice. Your dad was currently arguing to tell your brother about football. Now, your sweet mom was the pry-er; she was very good, too. You cringed and sank further into your chair while trying not to make eye contact with her. 

She sighed and turned around from the pan of eggs she was cooking, "You should get out and start making friends before you go to school, honey, it'll be good for you!"

You grumbled and sprung back up, stirring your cereal around lazily, "That's easy for you to say. You're pretty, nice and friendly. I'm whatever-looking, cranky, and unapproachable, besides I don't want to get friendly with these small-town kids. They sound weird enough."

"Oh, [Name], quit putting yourself down! You know I hate that!" She frowned but noticing the unmoved expression on your face, she pressed on, "So, you've heard some stories. Your father and I have been hearing strange gossip at work as well, but you shouldn't buy that," she pointed the spatula in your direction. "People gossip nonsense all the time, sweetie."

The spoon clanked on the ceramic bowl when it slipped from your hands and you thought hard about how to say what you had to say next. If you worded the information wrongly, your mother would get the wrong impression and god knows, that would be bad. She'd have a field day with it and you'd be left to her mercy. You shivered at the thought of it actually. With that in mind, you heaved a sigh and begun, "I met the neighbors, at least."

"Have you now?!" She moved so quickly to your side that you almost spilled your milk. ~~No use in crying over it, though, eh?~~ "Tell me, oh! I wish I had more free time but you know how duty always seems to call. [Name], are you going to tell me?!"

"I thought you said not to gossip," you earned a slap to the arm from a metal spatula when she gave you a stern look. 

"I said they gossip nonsense, but that doesn't mean I'm any different, sweetie. That's life—just look at those two ladies in the living room arguing about football players," she waved off in the men's direction. 

"Fine, fine...geez, _Crazy_ ," you continued. "The people in the red house--I've really only met the son, but I think it's just him and his older sister--are alright in my opinion. No, mom, don't give me that look, he's like ten or eleven. The people that live in the dull brown house—" Then you stopped, wondering how to describe him without using profanity in front of your mom. 

"[Name]'s little crush? Is that what we're talking about?" Your brother butt in and tapped rhythmically on a chair. You would've stabbed him, but you were only armed with a spoon. ~~Then, again...~~

"Ah! Not even in James' dreams, I'd die before I even thought about liking that kid!"

"What?! Why?! [Name], is there another boy?! Or girl, you know, I would accept you whomever you love!" Your mom got quite excited and looked your older brother's way. She has always waited for any chance to match you with a potential suitor. "Young man, tell me about your sister's love life, now!" 

"Oh, sorry, mom, but the eggs seem to be burning, I'll check them!" He rushed away to the stove and you were left to the mercy of your mother. She shook your shoulders rapidly and was practically foaming at the mouth from this information. 

"Ow! Mom! It's nothing! I swear! That guy is beneath me, he's so rude and he even took my poor cat hostage!" 

"[Name], you've probably just caught him on a bad day, you should go back over there before the week ends and introduce yourself nicely."

"Life isn't apple pie, mom."

"Just do it, missy, for your poor old mother and the spirit of good cheer!"

You went to put your bowl into the sink and kicked your brother in his shin, hard. He bent over slightly and you managed to slip him a menacing whisper, "I'm gonna return your Christmas gifts, you turd," for the rest of your family, you forced a grin and shook your head. "Sure, in the spirit of neighborly love, I'll try to befriend our lovely neighbors."

You retreated upstairs to flop into your bed and think about what sort of baked goods your mom was going to make you take over. This was a rare day that both of your parents had off of work and they wanted to do "family bonding" all day. You went to your closet to pick today's sweater and beanie ~~and scarf and gloves and boots~~. 

Downstairs, you could hear your dad singing his rendition of "O, Christmas Tree" which solely consisting of the words "O, Christmas Tree" repeated to the actual tune of the song. Your mom was probably fanning herself or staring at the house next door from a window and your brother was probably still decorating the house. Having taken the role of Scrooge, you decided to take your sweet time getting ready this fine holiday morning. 

A meow caught your attention and you sat down, half dressed to talk to your cat. "Cat--" you refused to actually address him as James when speaking directly at him, "--could you just not go over to that asshole's house anymore? That's all I ask, cat." He just blinked and swiped his tail at your arm. That was probably cat body language for "Nah, bro, I'm good; I'll be there tonight."

~

The lovely set of parents you had wanted a legitimate leisurely experience as they dragged you—sometimes literally— through the somehow crowded South Park mall. It was holiday season and everyone was out, you guessed. Your dad had given all bags to your older brother and he was tied up from teasing you or talking to any females in a ten foot radius. 

"Mom, Dad, can I wander for a bit?" You asked, hands thrust in your jean pockets. Your mom tsk'd, as you knew she had purposely passed Victoria's Secret several times trying to coax you to shop for "special undies". Thankfully, your dad had shot that idea straight to the pits of hell from whence it surfaced. 

"Sure, do you need any money?" Your dad asked and you shook your head. 

"No, I'm good."

"Great, because I wouldn't have given you any, Squirt," he winked at you, you ignore his old nickname (you liked it, secretly) and you told them to call you if they absolutely needed you. Wandering through the busy mall was actually the most alone time you'd had to your own thoughts. It was refreshing. You probably saw some of your future classmates at the mall and you hoped none of them would remember you. If it spared you from any sort of interaction at school, you were all for it. 

The town still seemed pretty uneventful despite all that Ben had told you. You'd be lying if you said you hadn't wished any of that could happen again because it would add some spice to your so-far bland experience. Bland because you blocked out Craig Tucker from your mind. The blended Christmas carols coupled with the buzz of chatter made you numb to most of your surroundings. 

Which could probably have been one of your worst (or best?) mistakes as you went stumbling into another group of human beings. Two boys who must have been in one hell of an argument as they hardly seemed to notice you. 

"Look, just because your family doesn't celebrate one of America's cherished holidays—"

"You're such a selfish fat ass, Cartman, you only like Christmas because of the gifts."

"See, but that's where you're wrong," he was so serious in his words, "Because you are a Jew and you wouldn't know about the birth of baby Jesus. That's why I love Christmas; I'm an American through and through."

"You're such a dumbass," the other person in the argument had fiery red hair tucked beneath a green hat. You pushed yourself off of the tile ground before they trampled you. 

"Guys, shut the hell up for a minute!" The obviously irate teen in the brown coat (another boy in the group) interrupted. You were sort of frozen, entranced by the mesh of people in front of you. You couldn't explain why you were so drawn into whatever nonsense the four boys were conversing about, but you hadn't spoken or moved yet. The fat one was angry but his expression changed when he saw you, instead a smirk fluttered across his thin pink lips, "Why, hello...my, my, I don't think we've been introduced—" He pushed past the one in the green hat, and approached you quickly. 

He wasn't all that tall, but you stared at him in minor confusion. "—my name is Eric Cartman, but you can call me Cartman, my lady—"

"Cartman, you fatass, quit creeping her out!" The green-hat came to his side and threw you an apologetic glance. "Sorry, Cartman can't help but sound constipated."

"Shut the hell up, Stan!"

"Guys, c'mon..." 

"Stan, don't be a cock-block, dude," Cartman blurted out and you nearly keeled over. You couldn't help but feel extremely violated, and you'd not even spoken a word. The fourth one—he was quiet—mumbled something and Cartman glared at him, before flipping them off and walking away. It seemed like that was a South Park kind of thing.

Stan shoved his hands in his pockets, "Ignore him, he's angry all the time. He's all disgusting all the time, but we deal." You were a little surprised that these people were still talking to you as you couldn't manage anything out. It was like all your words were at the back of your tongue but refused to go any further; it felt like you were choking.

"Are you new in town?" 

And finally a sort of whimper and a grunt of a word escaped through, "Yeah..."

They looked at you and you looked past them, normally you'd be able to at least answer, but for some god awful reason, it was like you'd fallen under some kind of force field of silence. 

"Oh...I'm Kyle," the one in the green hat introduced himself, he pointed to the two others with him: Stan and Kenny. "Cartman always leaves like that. Are you going to the high school?"

"Yeah," you finally answered with a bit of normalcy. 

"Uh, cool, see you there, new girl! We gotta go," Kyle said with a friendly smile and you walked away before they could. 

Talk about a flop of an introduction.

•

You don't know how it happened. 

You don't know why it happened. 

But, it happened.

Someone made a dick-shaped snow sculpture in your front yard. (With matching balls, too.) Your dad was pissed and made you and your brother destroy it—like it was your fault for the phallic snow sculpture! Your mother couldn't stop laughing and commenting on the accuracy, which was unsettling to think of who she was using as a reference...

Your brother kicked it a few times and then took a few branches and laid them down on the spheres _"Look, pubes...L-O-L!"_

In other words, he was no goddamn use in helping you dismantle that dick.

Ben walked by just as your brother walked inside, because you had taken a shovel out. It was a metal shovel (for dirt). Apparently, your family still couldn't adjust to these cold weather conditions. You took the shovel and chopped the top of the snow penis off. Ben hissed and you laughed. Sadistically, he thought. 

"Not the tip, [Name]!"

"Go away, you pervert!" You joked as he stared to see your destruction. You decided to investigate the snowy genitals. "Did you see who erected this in my yard?"

"Pun intended or nah?"

"Who could have a bone-r to pick with me? I've been new for a while, why now?"

Ben rubbed his face in utter secondhand embarrassment. "Could be your neighbor? Our enemy."

You stuck the shovel in the snow and leaned on it, "Could be these four boys I met at the mall yesterday?"

"Four boys?"

"Yeah...Kyle, um...Kenderick...I think. Stan...and um, a fat guy...Eric!"

Ben's eyes got wide and he pretty much body slammed you to the ground. You, not having shoes with traction meant for snow, fell flat on your ass. "What the hell!?" You screamed in pain. Ben shoved himself off you but covered your mouth. 

"Shhh, I know these kids...when I remove my hand—ow!" He rubbed his palm. "You but me?!"

You huffed out and sat up, he sat back onto his knees, still not tall enough. "Yeah! You body slammed me and then started suffocating me...I bit you, kid. It's not like I was unjustified in my actions..."

"Shhh, you mustn't shout...eyes are everywhere."

"What the fuck?" You slipped up and cursed. He looked around and up and down the streets, before leaning in close. 

"You cannot be those guys' friend..."

He moved away an you looked beyond puzzled. "Why not? Most of them seemed okay..."

"Just...trust me, New Girl. They'll be your downfall...they're this town's troublemakers and my sister won't let me hang out with them because they once—remember all that stuff I told you about?"

You nodded.

Ben said, "That was them. It would only surprise me that made a such a small snow penis; you've obviously angered one of them...if not, and let's hope, it's just Tucker."

"Motherfucker..." You rhymed, but continued to destroy the lumps of snow left standing. Ben said something about having to finish wrapping up his gift for his sister, so he waved goodbye. You found that your frustrations were mostly relieved, but that poor snowy penis probably didn't deserve all that rage. You acted stupidly in front of possible friends your age—the idea of having 'friends' was becoming more of a necessity, judging by Ben's lovely stories. 

You threw the shovel near your pitch and stomped around your yard, making little holes in the blanket of white. It was getting darker out and you figured dinner (Lettuce wraps and grilled chicken) wouldn't be ready for a few more minutes, so you sat down on the cold snow. It didn't soak through your jeans, yet, and you leaned back until your back hit the ground, too. This was your heaviest jacket and yet the cold creep in through the collar and fabric. 

"At least, you can see the stars..." You muttered to yourself as you laid with your limbs outstretched and your hair splayed out around you like a halo. 

It was quiet in the neighborhood. It never sounded like this in Las Vegas; it was always busy, busy, busy. The cars never stopped speeding by, the barks of all the neighborhood dogs echoed down the streets and someone's house was always loud with music or people. Vegas was so alive, so mechanical—it was far to explain it, really...

South Park was different. It was quiet. You could hear the wilderness in your backyard and the buzzing of distant and scarce light posts. It was the scene of a horror movie, sort of. You hated it, too. It was hard to sleep in complete silence, you could hear your own voice in your head (which was unnerving) and it had been restless nights since day one. The people always seemed too friendly like they knew you, or something? 

No body waved at their neighbors in Vegas. It was nice if you ever saw them, but it wasn't like you went over to their porches and offered them a plate of cookies you made as a welcome gift. Small towns breed gossip, too, so it was no shit your family was already in the spotlight. Those boys from yesterday knew you before you even said a coherent word.

God, school was going to fucking suck balls.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Your gaze flicked to the yard next to yours. That Yard-Defiler stood there like nothing had happened and it pissed you off; that bored and confused look on his face even looked cute on his features. 

Tucker...that motherfucker...

"Nothing. Just laying down. Go way."

He rolled his eyes and you were sure he was flipping you off as he walked toward his house. He mumbled, barely audible, "Weird fucking girl."

"Did you make the snow dick?" You blurted out. 

He stopped. His head turned to shoot you a glare, but his body remained still. "Excuse me?"

"Did. You. Sculpt. A dick. Out of snow," you enunciated each word as if interrogating to a small child of what he did wrong.

The raven-haired boy didn't budge, "What dick sculpture?"

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, "Of course, I demolished it already, kid."

"Then, what's the problem? It's gone. Your problem is done with; no use in complaining about it now," he shrugged and proceeded on into his house as you sat in terrible silence. That Tucker kid was intolerable to say the least, but you guessed it was because your cat was trying to eat his hamster-rodent-thing.


	5. the ailurophile and the cynic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hi, hello!! It's been forever! I got inspiration and now here I am! The next chapter is surprisingly supposed to be the second half of this one but I thought it was a little lacking so I'm going to work on it and add it as another chapter soon. (Sorry, I was gone for so long I was doing the college thing.) I promise I will finish this story!!! 
> 
> Anyways, without further ado...

Your fingers drummed impatiently against the warm stone pie dish your mother had made just that morning. You were especially salty about the fact that you were giving such a glorious dish away. Your own flesh and blood had slaved over the hot oven to craft this decadent dessert and you weren't even going to have a slice. Oh, no. You were giving it all away. All of her cooking was done over the dead of the night because she was on call at 10:30 a.m at the hospital. Christmas was no excuse for her to stay home unfortunately and since she wanted you and your brother to have a nice dinner, she prepped everything early in the morning. Your mother was a goddamn trooper in terms of multitasking and unlike your father who lived in the moment, she planned, planned, planned. It was almost scary how perfectly she scheduled her time. 

Presents had already been unwrapped and your brother was sent to the kitchen to take over your mother's duties. Your parents ended up taking too many pictures of you and your sibling unwrapping your presents with grumpy tired expressions. 

But, in a painfully obvious manner, your mother suggested you head over to the neighbors' house to greet them with her legendary apple pie—a recipe that had been handed down through many generations. Around 7 o'clock was when your mother retreated upstairs at the demands of your father so that she could rest before working. She agreed and he joined her because your mother was notorious for scrolling on her Facebook feed on her iPad instead of sleeping. When you agreed (with a rough grunt) thinking it for Benjamin and his sister, she specified that it was for the _other_ neighbors and you groaned. That's about the time when she reminded you of all her hard work and your father crossed his arms in that stern, fatherly way that is supposed strengthen your mother's words. It had you rolling your eyes and hastily shoving on a jacket and boots. 

(You might as well get it over and done with—rip it off like a band-aid.)

Which brought you to your current predicament. You'd knocked the safe and courteous amount of times (which around three knocks) and waited. Eight o'clock in the morning was a fairly reasonable time to be awake on Christmas morning, you thought but, you could also be ruining some precious family moment. In which case, you would never be able to see your neighbors without one of them flipping you off. A brief moment of time passed before you heavily consider the option of leaving the pie dish on the doorstep and waiting for them to discover it. Then, it passed by because if they threw away your mom's pie dish you would be dead before the New Year. You even considered eating the pie yourself because your lovely mom had only made the one. It was very unfair.

You heaved a long sigh and cracked your neck, growing irritated at the lack of response, so you went against your better judgment and knocked again. By the time your fist hit the wood of the door for a fourth time, it cracked open. Blue eyes and messy black hair accompanied the disheveled, pajama clad boy that towered over you. He looked freshly awake and definitely not happy that you were standing on his porch at eight in the morning. He spoke with a scratchy voice, more evidence that he'd been freshly awoken—you ignored the shivers it caused down your spine. You were here to deliver the pie and leave, a fact that you weren't jumping for joy about. 

Taking a chance to point out the obvious you gestured to the pie's presence by lifting it up. He eyed it with an unimpressed glance. "Did you make that yourself?"

You scoffed, "No, my mom did. I'm just here to give it to you."

He stared back at you for a moment before opening the door wider and turning on his heels. He threw his hand up and gestured for you to follow, "C'mon, I'm not grabbing anything this early in the morning."

You hesitated because the last time you'd been in his house, you were on a rampage of a rescue mission. He shot you an impatient look over his shoulder and you hurried inside before quietly closing the door. Your eyes darted around the house, gathering as much information about your mortal enemy as possible. As it is said that "one must know thyself and thine enemy". The presents under his family's Christmas tree remained untouched and the house was quiet except for a yawn you heard come from your neighbor. 

Despite your wandering eyes, you'd not made much progress in terms of walking towards the kitchen where he was headed. You shuffled awkwardly and as silently as possible to follow him. Gently placing the pie on the counter, you stood there unsure what to do. You'd never had to deal with him one on one in such foreign territory. When you rescued your cat, you'd not even noticed your surroundings so it was less awkward but, now...

He peeled the foil off the top of the pie and snorted, "Geez, your mom baked this for my family? Why?"

You squeaked (curses...) at his sudden decision to make conversation. You'd expected him to shoo you away. Hands clasped and held in front of you, you answered with an slight wavering of your voice, "Um, she wanted me to spread good will towards our neighbors." It really wasn't a lie, you supposed.

He shrugged, "Thanks."

At that moment, you were sure you had heard something very wrong. _All hands on deck. Prepare for the Armageddon._ Was your self-proclaimed nemesis... _thanking_ you? This wasn't right. He was supposed to insult your mother's baking skills and throw you out! It was not right that he was accepting it! _All was wrong! The sky was purple! Pigs were flying! Your brother was a productive member of society—_

"—want a piece?" You were so caught up in the oddity of your situation that you'd completely ignored almost every word he'd spoken. You had to shake your head and feign sleepiness. 

"What was that?"

He had somehow procured a knife and paper plates. The ebony haired teen rolled his eyes, "I said, do you want a piece? You might as well have a slice if your gonna stand there."

Stand there!? He had been the one that told you to come into his house in the first place! Whatever the technicalities were, you were not going to let a piece of your mom's apple pie go uneaten by you. You managed out a small "yes" and he silently cut you a slice of the warm pie. 

He handed you the plate and you held it with the same amount of discomfort you had retained since you'd walked in. He noticed it as he was serving himself. "You can sit if you want. You don't have to stand like some idiot."

You gave a quick look around and found a chair at the counter of the kitchen. You plopped down and he stood on the other side, pulling a drawer to retrieve two forks. He offered the utensil and you tried your best not to shovel the delicious pie into your mouth like some sort of starved savage. He cut a piece off and you watched as he guided the fork into his mouth. 

The simple action stirred something inside of you. The way he leaned over the counter, one arm tucked under him as support, and the way he looked having just woken up. You didn't expect him to have so much hair underneath that god awful chullo hat. Your [e/c] eyes trailed upwards to meet his own icy blues, he scrunched his eyebrows together. Briefly, you'd fallen to stare at his Adam's apple as he swallowed the bite before snapping back up. He spoke, sleepiness having faded a bit from his voice, "What?"

"O-oh, nothing," you broke eye contact and started to eat. The silence that filled the air was neither completely uncomfortable nor completely tense—a real surprise to yourself since you had practically thought of every which way to murder the kid in front of you this week. "It's not bad."

"It's one of my family's recipes, you know the type; the ones that are, like, passed down from the Olden days," you responded, trying not to ramble too much. Your nerves mostly made you spew word vomit and under his stare, you felt weak. You were eating apple pie in the home of your enemy; something about it was unnatural. 

"It's way better than anything my mom would try to fucking cook today."

"Yikes," you cringed internally. Yikes? That was your brilliantly worded response. Yikes to yourself. "So, uh, your family's not awake?"

His eyes slid over your form, straight as a board in the chair across from the counter. "I was up because I crashed downstairs and you were knocking loud as fuck."

"Oh...sorry."

Sorry!? Apologizing to the enemy?! What nonsense—?!

"It's fine. They aren't here anyways."

You looked over at him, a flush of concern washed over you for the smallest of moments before your apathy kicked back in. (Apple pie made you emotionally squishy.) "Oh, sorry."

As if the unnaturally normalcy of the conversation couldn't get any worse, he asked, "It's fine. I wanted to be alone anyways. Are you doing anything today?"

For a minute, you almost expected him to ask you to do something. "Um—"

"Are you gonna want another piece or are you done?"

"Huh?" You looked down at his plate to see he'd finished his slice. You hadn't even finished half of yours. "Oh, um, I should probably leave after this. I'm spending Christmas with my older brother." He nodded and went to cut himself another piece. You couldn't help but feel curious, so you questioned, "Why's your family gone? I mean, if you don't mind me asking..."

He shrugged nonchalantly. There wasn't much emotion on his face so you weren't sure if he was just emotionally deficient or if he truly did not care, "They went to my Aunt's house in Denver. I didn't want to go so they said we would celebrate Christmas after they got back. I don't really care that much. It's not like we are functional anyways."

Well, if anything, Craig Tucker certainly knew how to take a situation and flip it into something extremely somber. 

"Oh...so you aren't doing anything?"

"Not really. I'll probably sleep."

"Right," the awkward meter in your brain was suddenly spiking. There was no reason he should even be talking to you. He was supposed to be the rudest person alive. Instead, he was one of the more civil people you'd met other than Ben. Life was throwing you a curveball you weren't sure you could catch.

"You're a senior, yeah?"

"Hm?" 

"High school, you know? You're in twelfth grade right?" The condescension in his tone was sickening. You nodded, stabbing a piece of pie. "Jim Davis High fucking sucks."

"Jim Davis? As in _Garfield_?"

"Yeah, _that_ Jim Davis," he confirmed.

"Interesting." You moved a apple slice around on your plate. He was already scraping up the last bits of his second slice. 

"Not as much as you'd expect."

Your phone, which you had the right mind to have on your person at all times, buzzed in your pajama pocket. You pulled out the device and noticed your brother had texted you asking if you had been murdered yet. Clicking the phone to sleep mode you placed your fork on the plate. He looked at you from serving himself a third piece. "You're leaving?" You began to retreat to the door.

You pushed yourself out of the chair, "My brother's a worrier...um, thanks for the pie?" You tilted your head in confusion. He gave a weak and half-hearted two-finger salute. 

"Sure. Close the door on your way out, then."

Your body was so close to the door. Your hand was even outstretched and everything but, your genius (or fucking stupid) brain decided to tell your mouth to move. It was like you were trying to summon Satan into your home when you said, "Did you want to come over for dinner later? Since, you know, you don't have anything to do?"

You were relieved when he declined but, a part of you felt sad. It wasn't acknowledged and you left in a hurry, more unsure about your new town than before. You would have to rethink this nemesis bit, for certain. 

Fuck.

••

The next time you truly talked and conversed with your neighbor was two days before New Year's Eve. All because your lovely cat had decided to take a run for it into Tucker's backyard again. So, once more, you'd found yourself in fuzzy pajamas and boots calling out to your feline friend. His fat little body scaled the fence with an agility you'd never expect of him. 

He gave you one piercing stare and disappeared over the side with a thump into the snow. You'd thought you would definitely lose your precious cat to Tucker's hands because he had threaten his life the last time he weaseled his way into his backyard, so you dragged a lawn chair out to the fence. Carefully climbing onto it and peering over the edge, you noticed your cat was pawing at the backdoor of your neighbor's house. Tucker was nowhere in sight. 

"Jim! Cat! Meow! C'mon, come back home. Oh my god, it so fucking cold right now...please!" You rubbed your upper arms in a weak effort to keep warm. It was not natural for a desert born to live and thrive in a cold climate. It was like you, the cactus, had been teleported to Antarctica and been told to grow up and sprout fruit. Okay, well, maybe not exactly but, it's definitely how you felt. What in your parent's right minds told them that moving in the dead of winter was a brilliant idea? Right now it would be about 39 degrees Fahrenheit in Las Vegas—which is fucking cold—and here, it was -6 degrees Fahrenheit—which is really, really fucking cold. You'd never even experienced a negative temperature until you moved her and you were not enjoying it. Especially not when your cat was out in it bothering your neighbor and forcing you to follow like Alice followed the White Rabbit down the hole. 

A sliding glass door pulled you from your thoughts when you noticed your neighbor's form peaking out from the door. He took notice of James first and then trailed his ice up to your stunned form. There really wasn't any time to duck out of sight because your legs were probably frozen. 

"Hey there," you managed through chattering teeth. Your nose with pink and your face was red. Craig looked down as your cat ran into his house and you could hear him mumble a slew of curses before he shot a glare towards you, "What the fuck's wrong with your mangy cat?"

"He's not mangy. He's cold!" You defended like a threatened mother bear. 

"Then keep him inside, dumbass."

"I-I did! He gets out, okay!? I was trying to get him back just now!" 

He looked back inside and then yelled for someone to stop before retreating back inside. You listened intently and heard shouting, cursing and loud meows accompanied by a crashing sound. Out popped the flustered face of Craig Tucker, who marched his way to you in the snow, "Come get your stupid fucking cat before I kill it."

"Don't hurt him!"

"Hurry up," he demanded and you hesitated for a moment before getting the picture. You rubbed your palms together to generate feeling back and did your best to clamber over the fence. It wasn't that you couldn't hop fences (Vegas was a good place to learn.) you just couldn't feel a majority of your limbs. He impatiently pulled your leg and you came tumbling over the side of the fence. You'd landed ass first in the snow and your first instinct was to punch his thigh. Years of growing up with your brother had strengthened your right jab, too. "Shit! That hurt. You were taking too long," he rubbed the place where you punched him. Oh, that felt great, too. You felt alive.

"That's what you get, asshole," you wiped the snow off of your body as best you could and stomped through the yard to his back porch. You walked into the house and noticed the lights were all off and the only source of light came from Christmas decor. He still hasn't opened his presents and you assumed his family was still out. "Family's still gone?" You asked over your shoulder. He pushed past you and shut the sliding door. 

"Yeah, there aren't coming back until after New Years. Just get your cat and leave."

"Right."

James was hiding under the dining room table, purring. You gripped him and kissed his head when you hugged his warm body to your chest. Craig looked at you and rolled his eyes, "Cats are awful pets."

"And Guinea pigs are better?"

"They don't bother my neighbors."

"Whatever."

"You should try locking the doors, before sleeping, ya know?" 

You didn't even response as you slid the door back open and walked outside. Then, a predicament arose, you weren't too sure how you were going to get across the fence. You couldn't waltz in the front door because your parents would kill you if you woke them up this late. It also appeared that Craig Tucker did not have any backdoor furniture. When you reentered his house, you caught him walking away from the kitchen. "Hey, I'm gonna use one of your chairs to climb the fence, okay?"

He turned around and shook his head, "No, you're not."

"What? I can't climb up with my cat unless—"

"Use your front door, genius."

"I can't wake up my parents—"

"Call that guy that lives with you."

"I I don't have my phone."

"Then, you're fucked."

You scoffed, your cat wiggled out of your grip and you cursed loudly. "Dude, just let me use your chair."

"No, that's nice furniture."

Crossing your arms in frustration, you grumbled out, "Well, what am I supposed to do?"

"Wait until morning. Look, I don't give a fuck," he waved a hand. You chased you cat into the kitchen and cornered him long enough to pick him up. 

You started grumbling under your breath about how fucking stupid your neighbor was and how annoying your life had become because of your cat's inability to stay away from his house. You closed the backdoor behind you and you held your cat close to you for warmth. He struggled in your arms but, you weren't letting go. He eventually gave into it and started dozing off. By now, you were losing feeling in your hands and face and you started to sniffle from yours slowly running nose. If you stayed outside until morning, you were going to die of hypothermia for sure.

"Come sit inside before you die."

You whipped your head around and it was Craig Tucker poking his head out from his backdoor. Your pride was far too important, however, and you faced forward. "Nope, I'll wait until morning."

He groaned in irritation, "You're not gonna freeze your ass off because you are mad. Get inside before I make you get inside."

"Fuck off, kid."

He pushed the door open and gripped your forearm before roughly dragging you indoors. You couldn't risk letting go of your cat and frankly you were glad that his house was warm. Maintaining face, you grumbled as you tried to break past him. He slammed the door behind him, "Go sit on the couch. You can wait in the living room until morning, or whenever you decide to leave. I don't care."

"Let me outside—"

"Go."

You tried to stare him down but your frozen limbs begged you not to. The moment your cat knew it was inside of Craig's house, it bolted from your arms and made its home under the table. He pushed you into the living room and you shoved him off you before flopping onto his couch, angry and cold. 

He grabbed a blanket and tossed it at your face, "Here."

"Gee, thanks."

"I'm going to bed, I don't care what you do as long as you don't break any shit. Good night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so now Reader is definitely in some trouble now. Ooo, spending the night at Craig Tucker's already... Eyyyyyy. 
> 
> (yo, side note, who wants a poe dameron/reader??? because I do and I need lots of it.)
> 
> Until next time!


End file.
